Twenty seven years ago I was thirty one. Driving a red car with the top down through the barren lands of Albuquerque. Now an old man I reminisce about that young man in a constant struggle. Now an old man I sit beneath a pine tree where a parrot eats above me. I drove the red car into a petrol station. There she was, Lucy; tall, blonde, fierce, gorgeous. I was shy though, even in memory. I played it cool but had nothing cool to play, so I played nothing, oh nothing I was and Lucy had not seen that before. She was used to something, never nothing.
“What brings you through Cowboy?” she asked me.
I didn’t know how to answer those type of questions so I didn’t.
“Cat got ya tongue Cowboy?”
“No, I just didn’t know how to answer that question, there is a lot to it.”
“How ya mean?”
“Well, how do you mean?”
“What you doing that got you sittin here in a diner halfway between somewhere and nowhere?”
“Like god?”
“You believe in God?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“Even Zeus?”
“Yes. He was as real as anyone.”
“I like you, what's ya name?” asked Lucy.
“Buck Jones, but you can call me Cowboy.”
“How about you come fuck me in the back toilets?”
“Alright.”
And that was one of the best nights of my life. The reason I was in the diner that night, was because, the only time I felt safe was when I was driving. When I was moving. I was doing something, but still had the view, still had the thoughts, didn’t have the guilt. Then I found out a week later that I had aids, from Lucy, and I was banished from all of my social contracts because everyone thought I was a fag. It was all pretty bad, the reason for being there, the repercussions of being there, but life went on, with medication, but on. And I despise the human race for not loving me, yet I love them for keeping me alive, because nature you see, the roses do not judge, nor the sun, the stars shine for everyone, and this parrot eating above me, loves me. I learnt how to draw, in my unspoken solitude, and spoke with the dead through their work. I can hear the trees now too. I wish the silence I have filled with nature were still the voices of the ones I love, but that is just a wish. Lucy died three years after we fucked in a petrol station toilet. I forgave her before she died even though she didn’t ask for it. I believe in god but I have one foot on the ground. I have never been tricked by God, just by those pretending to be. I drink so I can love this universe. I smoke so I can see why. I stay here, a world that does not want me, because I still need them. I still want them. I still want love. The trees don’t love enough, but they will have to do, they are all I have got.
